Settling in

We have been living in Bengaluru for two months now. Here is some evidence of how I am settling in:

• While I was waiting for the bus, a woman addressed me in Kannada to ask if the bus went to Yeshavantapura. I had to ask her to repeat herself slowly, but eventually I understood and was able to give her a useful answer, also in Kannada. (I said “yes, Yeshavantapura,” and I pointed at a sign.)
• I can catch a bus to work or home without using Google Maps. I know which stops to wait at, and I know at least some of the buses that will work to get me where I need to go.
• The strongest evidence, though, is that I am now rushing to get places, having left with barely enough time to reach my destination. This is not really a positive development, but when I was rushing from lunch to a meeting today, I realized that I wasn’t doing this a month ago. Back then, I was never sure how long I would need to go somewhere, so I was always getting places way ahead of schedule.

In other words, I’m doing OK with navigation. In so many other ways, I remain lost. Living in new countries this year (not just India, but also France in the fall) has meant being constantly reminded of all the things I do not know.

For example, one common type of meal here involves many little dishes served in bowls, as well as rice and bread to eat them with. I know now that one the dishes is often payasam, a (delicious) sweet, and I know (because I asked someone) that I’m not meant to mix the rice or the bread with it. In fact, the idea of mixing them is hilarious in its wrongness. I’m certain that I am making other food mistakes at that level, which my dining companions are too polite to react to.

I wish that I had blogged my impressions of settling in in Paris. I have felt a lot of parallels over the last two months. I remember telling a friend, I think around the two-month mark, that I had noticed a difference in how I felt in the lobbies and elevators of our apartment building. At first, I was extremely uncomfortable. I was self-conscious. I was worried that I would cause offense or someone would tell me that I shouldn’t be there. Gradually I learned how to behave, greeting people with a bonjour and leaving the elevator with bonne journée, ideally adjusted to the time of day. I still can’t reliably tell when jour becomes soir, but after a couple of months I was comfortable in the building. Now I’m noticing the same thing in our (smaller) building and neighborhood here.

Another parallel experience has been getting to know the cities’ geography. At first, the few places that I knew felt disconnected. I would get on the bus or the metro and hope that, after the predicted amount of time had passed, I would notice my stop. Over time, the metro lines and bus routes in Paris began to fill in. The 6 and 4 metro lines are no longer blurs of stops, but lists of places I’ve been. I’m seeing the same thing here. First I was noticing unexpected landmarks, not knowing how the city was connected. Now I’m anticipating them and knowing what’s coming next.

Living in a new country is definitely humbling. But since there’s so much I don’t know, it’s easy to learn new things — that’s one of the best things about this wonderful sabbatical year.